


Avoiding Death - A Ketchmas Tale

by TheDemonsMadeMeDoIt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: #Ketchmas, Character deaths discussed, Hints of A Christmas Carol, Not quite Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-09-22 19:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDemonsMadeMeDoIt/pseuds/TheDemonsMadeMeDoIt
Summary: Ketch needed to find Rowena, he could not live with the shadow of death hanging over him.Not because he wanted to live, not because he'd learnt any lessons.Simply because he'd seen the face of death, he'd heard its whispers and he knew what it had planned for him.5/7 - Finally complete, please accept my apologies if you've been waiting for the conclusion to this story.





	1. Chapter 1

Watching the bartender pour his scotch Ketch decided to throw caution aside. 

“Leave the bottle.” To ensure compliance Ketch casually placed a large roll of bills on to the bar. He gestured for the man to take the money and hoped that would be the end of their interactions for the evening.

His mood was dark, even more so than usual. The hunt for Rowena had not progressed as he’d hoped. A bullet wound in his shoulder made his misstep all the more evident. 

Finding the witch was however, imperative. The Winchesters believed she was dead but Ketch knew otherwise. She may have evaded him but she would not stay hidden forever. Only Rowena was capable of providing him with a Resurrection Seal; so, he knew without question that their paths would cross soon.

It did not suit Ketch to remain unguarded from the perils of death. Taking a sip of the scotch, he pondered why death had become something of a burden to him. Lacking a magical cure-all was surely a factor. When you were almost certain you would return to the world following death, it allowed a certain disregard for mortality. Yet, even before the witch had cast her spell, Ketch had sought danger and violence. He reveled in the hunt and kill; the epitome of a good solider maintaining the edict of duty before self-preservation. 

Ketch knew the extent of his worry went much deeper. Since his return he’d worked tirelessly, avoiding the quiet and moments of self-reflection. At night though, he was unable to control his subconscious. It would take him to a place he wished to forget, perhaps the only place that Arthur Ketch had ever been scared of. The reality of death and what he’d witnessed during the brief glimpse of his afterlife. 

When he first returned to his body, he’d brushed the encounters aside. Nothing more than vivid hallucinations brought on by the magic present at the moment of his death. But as the dreams intensified and the memories remained, he knew what he’d seen was real. With each day that passed the work he found served as less of a distraction. Each morning it took him longer to find his bearings upon waking and it was wearing him down. 

So, it was that he found himself trailing (and torturing) witches. Eventually he would find the one who knew of Rowena's location; the seal would be restored and his torment would end. He could not face the prospect of returning to that place if he died again; to the whispers of a dead man and those who chose to enter his oblivion.


	2. Ketch In The Afterlife

“Ketch.”

Arthur opened his eyes and found he was in a stark, minimally furnished area. There was no signs of doors or windows. 

He was sitting in a chair towards the middle of the room, no restraints were present. One other chair was visible, placed directly across from him.  
Ketch recognised the man in the chair though he knew his presence was impossible. 

“Davies? You’re dead.” There was no authority in Ketch’s voice, despite his need to gain control of this situation. 

Mick smiled wryly, “So are you it would seem.” He stood from his chair, a file appearing in his hands. “I’m told it won’t last this time though so I need to be speedy.”

Ketch recalled the day as quickly as his mind would allow. He’d left the compound, tracking Mary to the Bunker. He’d confronted, and killed, Toni for her betrayals. The thought of besting Dean in combat brought a large smile to his face. It faded when he remembered Mary standing over him. She’d sent a bullet into his shoulder already but this time she was aiming to kill.

“What do you mean it won’t last?” Ketch snarled, angered by his circumstances.

“Have you forgotten the deal you struck with the witch? Her freedom for a Resurrection Seal, I believe it was.” Mick looked at Ketch, his eyes narrowing before he spoke again. “It appears adherence to the code was only mandatory for some of us.”

Ketch scoffed, “Of course the rules were different for me. I’m different, better, far superior to you or any of the mindless puppets Kendricks produced.” As he finished, Ketch moved to his feet, straightening his tie. It was a dismissal of Mick, a sign he'd grown bored with the conversation. 

Suddenly an unseen force crashed against Ketch’s chest, sending him back into the chair. 

“You will move only when I grant you permission to do so.” Mick’s voice echoed through the room on a deafening scale.  
“Don’t forget Ketch, I was here before you, because of you in fact. You believe you’re superior to me and yet here you are. Bested by a mother and son you’d claimed to have broken.”

Mick circled Ketch while he spoke. It was the first time Arthur had seen his old colleague in full light. He was unnerved to discover the wound he’d inflicted was still evident on the man’s head.

“You see my scars because you caused them.” Mick’s voice was quieter, though his words remained ominous. “I control your afterlife because you sent me to mine.”

As if cued by Micks words a picture appeared on the wall ahead of Ketch. It remained out of focus but Arthur knew what he was being forced to observe.

Mick circled him, “I trust you know what you’re looking at.” His voice was clipped now, much firmer. “But to be sure perhaps you should explain what’s about to happen.”

Ketch cleared his throat, “Is that really necessary Davies? We were both there, we know the outcome.”

“Necessary? No, I suppose not. But your discomfort assures me it’s required." Mick’s hand landed hard on Ketch’s head before he continued. “Now you will look and you will tell me every detail that you see.” His fingers dug into the skin on Arthur’s scalp, twisting his head back towards the wall. 

Gritting his teeth, Ketch watched the scene ahead of him. The picture began to move, shapes and shadows sliding into focus.

“That is the meeting room, within the compound. Dr Hess and I are discussing your complete failures, lack of focus and code violations.” He spiked his words with venom. 

“Dr Hess is leaving now to ensure her presence startles you. My instructions are to remain to the side and await one of two signals. A nod will indicate your death; if I were dismissed your safety was decided. I should add your safety would only have come from a betrayal of the Winchesters.” As scowl crossed Ketch’s face then as he remembered the man he had been fighting what seemed like moments earlier. 

“And here you are now. Dishevelled, worn and tired. You really believed the Winchesters were good or good for you? Look at what you became moments before death; snivelling and pathetic. A deer caught in the headlights. You thought you had conviction but all I heard was whining.” 

Surprisingly Mick laughed, “I know what you’re trying to do Ketch. You think if you provoke me, I’ll react. You think your words bother me? Here and now, I have the power. You cannot, will not, hurt me again. But I can hurt you.” Mick had moved in front of Ketch, bending low until their faces were inches apart. “And I will, for as long as I’m given. Until you…” Mick stood suddenly, “Well that’s a conversation to be had shortly. For now, you will watch and you will tell me what you see.”

Ketch tensed, death was his business but he didn’t need to revisit the deed. Regardless, the picture moved forward, Dr Hess circled Mick, berating him for his shortcomings. Ketch stared at the wall unable to find the words to continue. 

“I can’t hear you.” Mick’s hand landed heavily against Ketch’s cheek. The pain seared his face as though a branding iron had been applied. 

“Perhaps if you’d been this assertive in life, I wouldn’t have had to kill you.” Ketch narrowed his eyes as he spoke.

“In truth, I’m not sure you could have convinced her to spare you. Pedigree and obedience were cornerstones of her life; you had neither. He sneered then, his words might not hurt Davies but they gave him a sense of power. 

“I can say without question, you said no one too many times. You didn’t even see it coming; the small tilt of her head, my movements behind you. Too consumed by your righteous indignation to recognise the trap had been sprung.

As Mick’s lifeless body fell against the table the picture began to fade.


	3. Afterlife In The Past

Ketch was relieved, he wanted nothing more than to be done with whatever this was. His hopes of returning to his body were crushed when Mick spoke.  
“I see your relief Ketch,” he laughed, “However we are not done.” Mick was back in front of Ketch staring him down. 

“Did you feel anything when you shot me? Anything apart from duty I mean?” For a brief moment Mick’s mask of dominance was lost. His face instead twisted with a mixture of hurt and sadness.

Ketch scoffed again, “Of course not. You were simply a cog that had ceased to work in a larger machine. Your removal was necessary to ensure the machine could continue optimal operation.”

“So even sitting here explaining the events to me, you believe it was just business?” Mick shook his head, “You’ve learnt nothing, nonetheless we will continue.”

“Continue what Davies, this…” Ketch fell quiet suddenly. He felt as though he were in motion, despite the room and his position within it remaining constant. 

In life Davies had been predictable, manageable even; but here he had unknown power. There was no way to envision what he had in store, which unnerved Ketch further. 

The wall began to glow again; the picture was complete and focused a second later.

Arthur couldn’t hide the surprise that spread across his face. He knew the scene before him all too well; it was one that he himself revisited many times. 

“From the look on your face I think it’s safe to say you know this place.” The smile on Mick’s face grew wider, while Ketch stared ahead. 

“It’s my room at Kendrick’s; though I see no reason for you to show me this.” Indifference was all Ketch offered. 

“Oh, I think you know why I’ve chosen this place.” The picture began to move then, “It’s my turn to be the narrator.”

Ketch watched as the picture zoomed, focussing on his old bed. A bed that was clearly occupied by two people. 

“Do you remember her name Arthur?” The use of his first name was jarring in the hostile environment. 

“You believe she meant enough for me to recall such details?” Ketch did not try to conceal the disdain in his comment. 

“You see Ketch, this time I believe you.” Mick’s words seemed earnest enough but Ketch worried they were a trap.

“For the record, her name was Lydia Elizabeth; she believed you would save her. She believed…” Mick’s words faded, his voice disappearing into silence. 

Ketch turned towards Mick, to work out why he’d stopped talking so abruptly. He realised quickly that it was not his ex-colleague looking back from the shadows. Instead a girl, the girl he was watching in his bed, met his gaze. 

When Lydia Elizabeth stepped into the light, she did not greet Ketch. Her eyes seemed to look passed him to the picture on the wall. 

As she moved closer Ketch realised, she was still wearing her Kendricks uniform. Though it appeared worn and tattered Ketch knew that was merely evidence of their final encounter. Gaps in the material, showed bruised and bloodied skin; knife wounds were visible too. 

“I believed in you.” Ketch almost missed her words, they were quiet and mousy.

Her hand brushed across the wall, across the memory of intimacy they’d shared. 

“That night I believed in you in a way I’d never felt before. I would have done anything for you.” Arthur could see her eyes were glazed, as though she might cry.

“Your tears would be wasted on me luv. Spare me your sorrow.” Though Ketch was angry, his words were quieter than they had been with Mick.  


Lydia Elizabeth glared at him, “You think I’d cry for, over you?” She shook her head, almost violently, “No, no, no, no, no!”  


He voice had grown, the last of her denials was yelled more than spoken.  


“My tears are for me. For the life I missed; the woman I would have been.” Ketch noticed her eyes shift again; back to the picture on the wall.  


“Do you know what the worst thing was? Well beyond your betrayal; you stole experiences from me I didn’t even know I’d miss. My death though it wasn’t quick, followed so soon after you turned on me, I had no chance to feel my heart break.”  


“Why would anyone mourn the loss of pain?” Ketch was confused and disgusted by her admission.  


“Because that is the truth of being human.” The words were a resignation; Lydia Elizabeth knew Ketch could never understand.  


“Perhaps it would serve you well to try and remember that Arthur.”  


As the picture on the wall faded, Lydia Elizabeth withdrew into the shadows.


	4. Afterlife and The Present

Ketch remained alert; with all that had happened he knew it would be remiss to relax. Too often that had led to unexpected developments amidst this insanity. 

An insanity Davies had said he should be learning from. But what did he have to learn from the dead? True he’d joined their ranks, though that would only be temporary. That alone proved he was far more intelligent than those trying to teach him. All that was left to him was the hope that the Resurrection Seal would see him free of this madness soon.

It was then that the unmistakable sound of heels caught Arthur’s attention. Obviously, they didn’t belong to Davies, though it surprised Ketch to see him appear from the darkness first. Seconds later, the lithe form of Toni Bevell came trailing behind.

The white shirt she wore was sticky with her blood. Blood that Ketch had spilled and would happily do so again; traitorous, neurotic bitch that she was.

“Now now Arthur, those thoughts won’t help anyone.” Mick scolded him. This was a new development; the dead could read his mind. 

“Like me she can hurt you and believe me when I say she really wants to.” Mick’s hand rubbed Toni’s shoulder, a calming gesture. Her features were contorted by rage; eyes piercing Ketch as though she might burn holes into him. 

Weary of Mick’s words Ketch tried to be civil, “Antonia so wonderful to see you again luv.” Of course, his words were cut by an undercurrent of mocking.

He found his windpipe constricted quickly. Ketch was sure he didn’t need to breath; he was dead after all. Nonetheless, panic began to cloud his mind.

In life Toni had been well versed in mind control and suggestive torture. It was clear now she enjoyed the same methods in death. 

Ketch was rigid against the chair. Eyes bulging as he struggled for air, or the illusion of air. For the first time he was grateful for the invisible bonds that held him. He was sure his hands would be clawing at his throat if they weren’t held down. 

“Toni?” Mick brought them both from their haze. With her concentration broken, Toni lost her grip on Ketch’s mind. His chest heaved; throat burning from the stranglehold Toni had maintained. 

Ketch looked to Mick, “I thought you had some power here? Will you kindly bring her to heel?” His eyes briefly turned to towards Toni.

“Perhaps Arthur, it would be best if you refrain from antagonising Miss Bevell.” Mick touched Ketch’s shoulder this time. 

“Has it occurred to you why I’m here with Miss Bevell? Your last guest didn’t have a chaperone.” He was standing in front of Ketch now, with a quizzical look on his face. 

Reason and logic had abandoned Ketch. Minor details were his forte, yet he found even the simplest pieces of information were beyond him in this place. 

“Think harder Arthur and perhaps use your words.” The grin on Mick’s face grew wider. 

“Stay out of my head Davies.” Anger and frustration spilled into his words. Ketch worried that retribution would follow; he didn’t relax when none came. 

“Have you truly grown so dense in death? It doesn’t suit you.” Mick looked him over, rolling his eyes before continuing. 

“How can you not see what is right in front of you? Toni can’t speak Arthur; you didn’t just take her life; you took her voice.”

It occurred to him then that Toni hadn’t spoken since she’d entered the room. Ketch sat a little straighter; most people would shrink away from this carnage, but he was proud. He’d always been capable of speedy kills but, inflicting maximum damage showed another level of skill. If Toni was the last person to die by his hand, Ketch would have been content.

Ketch felt his lungs stripped of air, the last of it rushing from his mouth. He tried to breath in, but it was like he was in a vacuum. No matter how he tried, how deep his breathes were, nothing seemed to reach his lungs. 

In his panic Ketch wondered if this torture could be compared to drowning. 

Strangely he felt no pain, though he wondered if Toni had been deliberate in her choice. She knew he was conditioned to certain levels of pain and in certain situations relished it. 

“Have you had enough Arthur?” Mick’s face was low, inches from his own. 

Ketch tried to reply but couldn’t form any words. Left with nothing else, he resorted to communication via blinking; Davies caught on quickly. He moved to Toni, whispering quiet placations until she broke the connection. 

“I thought you learnt the first time; Miss Bevell can hurt you and she will.” Mick moved to the side while he spoke, “Try not to give her an excuse.”

Ketch was able to breath again; his breaths were shallow and quick. He watched a silent dialogue pass between Mick and Toni while he fought to control his body. 

Small nods, mouthed words and furious head shakes led him to believe the discussion was heated. After a few minutes Toni stepped forward while Mick stayed a few feet behind. 

“Do you know what else you took from Toni?” The woman in question watched him, eyebrow raised, while Mick spoke.

Thinking back to his visit from Lydia Elizabeth, Ketch attempted to answer.

“Experiences,” his voice was hoarse and quiet. 

The palm that hit his cheek scolded his skin. Ketch cried out for the first time as his head snapped to the side sharply.

“No Ketch not experiences. It is in your best interest not to be glib.” Mick was smiling, enjoying the pain Ketch felt. 

“Perhaps it would be best for you to explain.” He tried to be as earnest as possible, only their reactions would tell him if he’d been successful.

Toni nodded towards Mick and he cleared his throat. 

“You took her son from her. Or more to the point you took her son’s mother away and condemned him to Kendricks.” Mick looked to the ground as he finished speaking; Toni’s eyes welled with tears he’d never have expected. 

Ketch looked to Mick scoffing, “We hardly knew our mothers Davies. I don’t think we fared badly.” His next comments were directed towards them both. 

“As for Kendricks, it moulded us, shaped us, they were devoted to bettering us.” Looking squarely at Toni he added, “Your son will be in good hands.”

Both Toni and Mick stared at Ketch, wide eyed, mouths gaping. Ketch didn’t understand their shock. 

“Of course, you wouldn’t understand Arthur. Why are you still holding on to their dogma? Their edicts?” Mick’s voice had risen. It was hard to tell whether he spoke for Toni now or if the words were all his own.

“We’re dead Ketch; three of Kendricks most promising graduates and still we met brutal ends.” Once again Mick lent down in front of him, hands on the arm rests of his chair.

“Just like Timothy, Lydia Elizabeth and half of her classmates; we are dead. That’s all Kendricks is, death; from the moment we were enrolled we were sentenced to die. Why don’t you understand that?” Ketch stared on impassively and Mick threw his hands in the air.

Toni touched his shoulder, her eyes pleading. It was clear to Ketch she wanted Mick to add something.

Mick’s shoulders tensed before he spoke, “You have executed that boy, her boy. Whether it’s in a year or two when he’s locked away with his best friend and a dagger. Or sometime in the future as he faces a monster or the disappointment of the old men. His blood is on your hands.” 

Tears spilled from Toni’s eyes. Ketch watched her lean against the wall close to collapse. It was reminiscent of the way her body fell seconds after his blade had cut through her skin. There was no way to stop the smile that spread across his face. 

Suddenly his body contorted, attempting to twist away from overwhelming pain. Multiple sensations assaulted his mind; first the feel of flames bubbling his skin; then his body shook as electrical charges coursed through him.

Ketch watched as invisible blades cut his skin; the flesh opened but no blood appeared. It was a small detail he chose to focus on hoping it would block the pain from his mind. It didn’t work; the attacks intensified accompanied now by a blinding ache in his temple. 

“Davies…” Through gritted teeth, the word was little more than a grunt. Ketch hated appealing to Mick, he felt it demeaned him. That he was left with no other option angered him. 

Mick loomed over him, his expression a mixture of joy and frustration.

“Miss Bevell, that’s enough.” Mick’s words were quiet and calm. His eyes flicked between them; when it became apparent that Toni did not intend to stop, Mick tried again. 

“He’s had enough Toni, stop now!” This time Mick raised his voice, his command delivered with comfortable authority.

When Toni finally broke the link between them, Ketch lolled forward. 

“Just go Toni, we’re wasting out time.” Mick swept his arm towards the shadowy recesses of the room; the area where they had appeared from.

Toni continued to glare at Ketch; even after she’d passed him, he could feel the heat of her gaze.


	5. Chapter 5 – Afterlife and The Future

When the sound of her heels echoed for the last time, Ketch looked to Mick.

“What are you trying to achieve?” He tried to sound cold and detached but frustration crept into his words.

Mick looked at him as he threw his hands into the air again.

“At this point I’m not even sure myself.” Ketch could sense defeat creeping over Davies. He was back to the hand wringing office boy Arthur knew well. The other worldly confidence he’d shown earlier drained from him.

Mick continued speaking, “I was supposed to be your mirror. A way to see the error in your actions.”

“What error? You thought I would question my deeds? My kills?” Ketch smirked before continuing.

“You are more of a fool than I could ever have imagined.” For the first time Ketch felt he’d gained control of his situation. 

“To what end exactly? Should I look upon my resurrection as a blessing, a second chance?” Ketch waited for a reply, but Mick only stared. 

“Death has given me two things Davies, anonymity and surprise.” A curt nod let Mick know he planned to say no more on the subject. 

“Surely Arthur it has given you something else.” He looked at Mick, who had raised his eyebrow. Curiosity got the better of Ketch and he gestured for the man to continue. 

“You’ve seen the afterlife, what it looks and feels like. You know the power and despair it holds.” Mick gestured around the room.

“There is something else too, death has opened a window to your future if you wish to see it.”

There would always be a catch, Ketch knew that; it seemed to be a condition of this place. But it was rare to see one’s future. The knowledge would arm him against his enemies when he returned to his body. In short it was an opportunity he would not pass up. 

“I wish to see my future Davies, show me now.” After he barked the command the room was plunged into darkness.

The absence of light was so complete Ketch wondered if he had been struck blind. No shadow, no contrast, no trace of light remained. 

“Enough of your tricks Davies, what about my future?” His words echoed. There was no sign that Mick was still present, but Ketch wanted answers. 

As an icy breeze filled the room, Ketch heard the first trace of voices. They were quiet; whispering as they seemed to surround him. He couldn’t make out their words, too many speeches carrying over each other. 

In the darkness the sounds became overwhelming. The voices argued, they yelled, they cried out and they muttered. 

He heard his name but not the reason for its mentions. Slowly other words floated to him; death, pain, suffering. They were the ones he heard the most through the jumbled noise. The noise grew to thunderous levels before disappearing. 

Ketch waited; he expected something to happen. He was confused when the silence continued. 

“Davies, enough! Do I get to see my future or not?” Ketch bellowed, hoping the volume would disguise his nerves.

“Still you don’t understand.” Mick’s voice was full of contempt and frustration. 

“This is your future Ketch,” the words were venomous. “You will die again, soon after your resurrection. And then you will return here for eternity. You will sit in a hell of my creation, your sight gone and only the whispers of your victims to keep you company.”

“You are wrong! Do you think I would allow that to happen? That I would succumb to death knowing what it will bring?” Ketch turned his head wildly; he couldn’t see anything, but he hoped to silence the whispers that had filled the room again. 

“There will not be a second resurrection for you Arthur, that much is certain. The length of time you have and what will happen upon your death may change. Outcomes may vary but it is entirely dependant on your actions.” Mick’s voice bounced around the space. 

“As much as you deserve it, as much as I want you to suffer, I’m here to show you there’s another way.” The words and tone were conflicting; this conversation was difficult for Mick.

“Choose another path Arthur, take the second chance. Some of us will never be that lucky. You owe us that much.” Mick appeared in front of Ketch; he could see Toni and Lydia Elizabeth over the man’s shoulders. Shadows further back turned into the faces of long forgotten victims. More and more appeared, some monsters, others human but all dead by his hands. 

The dead had mounted their final appeal, but Ketch was not moved.

He smirked before addressing the crowd, “I owe you nothing! Not one of you.” He realised the power Davies held was slipping when the weight that held him to the chair disappeared. Was his time in this place finally coming to an end?

Ketch pushed himself to standing, he was weak and unsteady. He held onto the back of the chair until he was sure his legs would support him. Staring at Mick, Ketch drew himself to full height. He crossed the room, standing inches from his tormentor. 

“I owe you nothing!” He repeated the words with even more venom.

“Davies, you walked into a trap. You didn’t protect yourself. I have no sin to answer for.” Raising his eyes, he looked over the mass of faces that had gathered.

“In fact, that is true for all of you. Stupidity is the reason you are dead. I may have been instrument but the fact remains you were not smart enough to evade me.” 

Ketch could sense the anger of the crowd; it grew with each word he spoke. 

“Arthur please, I’m asking you one last time. Use your second chance well. Choose another path.” Mick held his hands together; his actions were only a step away from begging.

Ketch laughed, “There’s the Davies I know.” A malicious smile spread wide on his face.

“I’ll admit I was shaken before; it was unnerving to see you wield so much power.” Ketch moved to straighten his tie and shirt before he spoke again. “But I was never moved to change. I am exactly who I was fashioned to be; I followed my training. I obeyed my orders. Most importantly I enjoyed my life and I will again.” Each word looked as though it was a blow Mick felt deeply and hatred rolled across the crowd.

Ketch pushed on, intent on antagonising everyone. “I will live, I will kill, I will utilise my skills and reap the rewards. While you all continue to rot.” The chuckle Ketch ended with was the final push the crowd needed. 

They surged forward, almost knocking Davies to the ground. Ketch stood motionless intent on meeting these spectres without fear. He knew that they might hurt him in this moment, but it would change nothing else. 

As their hands started to tear at his body, he felt something cold and hard against his back. Vertigo overwhelmed him, the room suddenly spinning faster and faster. Ketch should have felt the pain of the maddened crowd attacking him; he should have seen their faces close by. But he was so lost in the new sensations it was as if they no longer existed. He let his eyes close, hoping to stop the spinning. 

Seconds before he had heard the roar of a thousand voices, now there was only the rhythmic, echoing drip of water. 

Ketch reached forward expecting his arms to meet resistance. There was only air and space around him; his arms affected by a strange weight that pushed them lower. Gravity he realised. 

The truth of this realisation was startling. He took a deep breath, the final test before he would believe his senses. The air filled his lungs; his ribs expanding and contracting as he completed the cycle. He was alive; finally resurrected.


	6. Chapter 6 – Ketch Lives

Ketch moved to his feet slowly, worried his muscles would give way. They held though, a testament to hours of training. As his eyes adjusted, details of his tomb became clearer.

Refuse and waste were strewn about the place. The stench turned Arthur’s nose and stomach. They left his body amongst garbage, just another piece of trash. 

He wondered whose choice this would have been; Mary perhaps? She seemed somewhat angry during their last encounter. Thinking about those last moments brought a smile to Ketch’s lips. The thought of repaying the favour and ripping Mary’s heart from her chest was thrilling. 

Thoughts of his final moments also returned him to the hellish landscape that was death. He craved revenge but it would have to wait. Ketch needed to find the MacLeod witch. 

He was almost certain what he’d seen was a hallucination, a dream even. That wouldn’t stop him from guarding himself. 

With one final glance Arthur left his temporary resting place. He had many “safe houses” across the world; locations that weren’t known to even the Men of Letters. Once he could ascertain his location, he’d head for the closest one. Weapons, identities and money would all be waiting for him.

Armed with his favourite toys Ketch knew he’d have the witch and his revenge in no time at all.


	7. Chapter 7 – Present Time and Hatching Plans

Arthur swirled the amber liquid in his glass. He recalled the moments immediately following his resurrection. The arrogance and disdain he’d shown made him shake his head. 

The bar had seemed like a wise choice initially. A chance to dull the pain in his arm and the voices in his head. But the alcohol had failed at both tasks and now he was morose.

He’d met none of his objectives; the witch roamed free. Mary lived. And a Winchester had shot him again. All the training in the world would not aid him if he continued to allow his ego free reign. 

His previous life has been one of service. It had kept his impulsiveness in check while feeding his darker desires.

The Men of Letters were off limits now; his resurrection was a significant violation of their code. If they found him, they would kill him. He scoffed, remembering the spirit of Davies had said something to that effect.

There were others though that might benefit from his counsel. Those who would appreciate his unique skills; his ability to track hidden things. His hatred for the Winchesters. 

If he chose well, he’d find himself in the centre of the action. He'd be given a chance to declare his loyalty while pursuing his agenda. There was even the possibility that his goals would align with those of his employer. 

Fortified by the liquor and his belief in this new plan, Ketch turned from the bar. 

When he picked up the bottle of Scotch, he heard the bartender’s mouse like voice, “Sorry you can’t take that, no alcohol can leave the bar.” He was trembling when Ketch’s eyes landed on him.

“Did I pay for it?” The man gave a small nod. “Good, now we both agree on that, I’m sure you’ll see fit to do away with the rules. If not, you’re welcome to try to stop me.” Ketch emphasised the word try, though he hoped the bartender would ignore the warning.

Sensibly the man threw his hands in the air and turned away. 

As he left the building Ketch made a mental note of the supplies he’d need. 

At the top of the list, and most importantly, a new suit. First impressions mattered and he simply couldn’t arrive at the gates of hell in anything less than the best.


End file.
